by Clary, LeRoy
It explained how little we knew.
Without help and a lot of it, we were going to starve, be eaten by wild animals, killed by men like the one I’d shot earlier, hung by people who hated those who escaped to shelters, and probably a thousand other things. There seemed there were more ways to die than to stay alive, which was an alarming thought.
Our life expectancy without Cap and Tess’s help had already been exceeded.
Thinking back, the army at Deep Hole should have found and killed us. The thief earlier the same, and even the man with the dog on our first day could easily have caught up with us, killed us, and taken everything we had. We were fortunate to have survived the first morning, let alone the five or six subsequent days.
How long does it take to learn the basics of survival above ground? I had no idea.
Tess said, “We have jerky and apples. Not as good as your MREs but they will fill you. Tomorrow, we’ll try to find something to eat on the way home.”
Mayfield must have read my mind, or I’d allowed my feelings to show on my face. She gave me a warning nudge to shut me up. I had no idea of the reason for the nudge, but I knew to say nothing until I did.
If she wanted to do things that way, I’d go along and see how she liked eating jerky. If food is judged by its name, she was in for a rude surprise. As for the apple, it was sort of like a cherry in the pictures I remembered. Watching her eat strange foods would be fun.
It had turned out to be fun for both of us, but for completely different reasons than expected. The jerky was spiced, salted, and dried strips of tender meat. While ugly at first glance, and tough to chew until softened with moisture from my mouth, it was easily the best thing that I had ever eaten. A small portion filled me.
Then apples were passed out, far larger than the size of cherries. Cap bit into one and laughed as the juice ran down his chin and into his beard. Wanting to join in, I copied his method—and soon had delicious apple juice on my chin. It was tart, sweet, and more. It burst with strange flavors. Only a warning from Tess prevented me from eating the core as I consumed everything else.
Tess built a fire, a small, smokeless one. She talked as she worked as if explaining her actions to children. Only dry wood, because it does not make so much smoke. It burns faster, but that is the penalty for not announcing your presence.
Smoke from a campfire always follows beauty, meaning no matter which direction the breeze is blowing, the smoke travels to the prettiest person. It often came my way and made me cough and my eyes water, but how it knew who to seek out as the most beautiful was beyond me. Just another mystery to solve, I explained to Mayfield as if it was the truth.
She worried over it, never once smiling or laughing. Every time it came my way, I fanned it away with my hands and said, “See? It’s happening again.”
The four of us relaxed and talked of nothing and everything. They were continually impressed with how little we knew and teased us a hundred times. When we explained that our belief had been the surface of the world was uninhabitable, so our people remained below, they were stunned. They often reacted as if we were ignorant of our beliefs.
They were older and remembered when cars drove the roads, new skyscrapers went up in months, grocery store aisles were packed to capacity with food from all over the world, and goods were available from hundreds of stores. People swarmed the planet by tens of millions. Billions.
Estimates of the present population of America had fallen from three-hundred-fifty-million to less than five-million. Some said it was more like fifty-million so that just indicated that nobody knew much of anything beyond the borders of their community.
One unexpected fact, if true, was that the southwest from the Mississippi to coastal California was almost devoid of people. A few might live there, but the problem was water—or the lack of it. Without the means to distribute water, that entire part of the country had dried up.
They knew nothing of the east coast, but the initial reports were that it sustained far more damage. The Northwest, Idaho, Washington, and Oregon received far less.
“Have you been to any city?” Mayfield asked.
Both shook their heads.
Their reaction was too strong for a simple negative answer. I said, “Why not?”
“Danger,” Tess said.
“Gangs, small armies, and large ones depending on where you live. You either belong to one, or the members will kill you. If you belong to the wrong one, you also get killed. There are a lot of ways to die in cities.” Cap didn’t mince words, echoing my earlier thoughts.
I said, repeating what I’d heard from Mitch, “There is a Sir Wilson, I think he calls himself near here.”
“He runs things between the mountain pass and Everett at the edge of the sea,” Cap said. “Like the other tribal leaders, he’s always trying to expand.”
Mayfield said, “Everett is a city. I know that. What’s the mountain pass?”
“Stevens Pass,” Cap said. “It’s a slot between the mountains. It’s one of only a couple that goes from Puget Sound to the east. He has men stationed up and down this side. Anyone wanting to travel across the mountains pays a stiff fee to him. All products are taxed. He also keeps undesirables from crossing over to this side of the mountains, and for that, he taxes us all.”
“That sounds like a lot of taxes,” Mayfield said.
Cap shrugged. “He stops raiders from across the mountains, so keeps us safe. He fights off any gangs from nearby areas that want to expand into our area, and he punishes murderers and the like. Things could be worse. They are in other areas. I hear Tacoma is almost a wasteland and the fighting still goes on.”
“A lot worse, there,” Tess added. “In the last nine years, we’ve seen and heard terrible things.”
Changing the subject, I asked, “Can you tell us about this job you offered?”
“Last of the summer is almost here,” Cap said, which told us the time of the year, a simple fact we hadn’t known. “Our farm has tons of work to do before the wet winter. You can help us. We can’t afford to hire hands, besides, those who are willing and good farmhands already have jobs. Or dead.”
Mayfield said, “Let’s be straight up with each other, as our old military instructor would say. We have a mission to attempt, one we’re sworn not to reveal. It can wait until spring, but our commitment to you ends there.”
Tess turned to me. “A mission? Is this going to put us in any danger?”
“It’s not like that,” I said. “We made a promise or two and need to keep our word.”
“I thought they threw you out,” Cap said in a tone that had suddenly grown colder. “What do you owe them?”
Mayfield saved me. She said, “They did kick us out and if we ever face any of the four that exiled us, they might not survive the encounter. That leaves nearly three hundred other good people that we may be able to help. In effect, we’re just messengers.”
“I see,” he said, but in his eyes, he didn’t. A wariness had replaced the friendliness of a few minutes earlier.
I asked about the man I’d killed up on the ridge. “Were there more than the things the thief took from your friends? I mean had he done that to others?”
“Yes, there are souvenirs from five or six other people, if I had to guess.”
I tossed more wood on the fire and said, “I’m going to take a walk around the camp. No reason but to look around at all the new things. Everywhere I turn, there is something else.”
Standing, Tess said, “I’ll come with you.”
That was unexpected. But shouldn’t have been. Tess and Cap were survivors. They were the one in a hundred that had lived the nine years since the war.
Her offer was a simple ruse. She would pump me for information while we were gone, then compare it to what Cap would find out from Mayfield as he questioned her in private. Fortunately, Mayfield would reveal no more about the mission that we had already—and she would probably singe my ears for saying as much as I had.
The rest of our story was true. At most, there would be a few minor discrepancies, but that was normal. If our stories were the same, they should worry because they’d been rehearsed. I appreciated what they were trying to do.
I moved down the slope a hundred yards, following a well-used path probably made by Cap and Tess. It went directly to a stream. “I have water purification tablets in my backpack in camp.”
She knelt and scooped water into her mouth with her bare hand.
“They told us not to drink water like that.”
She scooped more and said, “True, you can get sick, get the trots, maybe even the sprints. Your body also builds up an immunity to most bacteria and then you’re okay. And yes, there are other things, but people have lived and scooped up water like this, without pills for ten thousand years.”
“I’ll use the pills,” I told her, hesitant to believe her.
She smiled as she stood and playfully placed her hands on her hips and said, “You must have a lot of pills.”
I gave her my best blank smile, not understanding the intent of her words.
“Do you plan to drink water every day? How many times a day? That’s a lot of pills.”
Not intending to be outdone, I said, “What if an animal upstream died in the water or peed? What then?”
“It happens. We believe fast-running water filters itself quickly and disperses things like that until it thins out those problems. Don’t drink water that tastes odd. Not like when I was your age and we turned on a spigot and filled a glass of perfectly clean water every time. A lot has changed. You have to, also.”
“But my pills . . .”
“As long as they last, but then what, as I said. And if they were mine, I’d drink the clean running water and save them for the stagnant pools full of algae and animal droppings when you need a drink desperately.”
What she said made sense, except the part about drinking stagnant water. That was not going to happen. If we were going to learn to survive, we had to start somewhere. I knelt where she had. My hand scooped wonderfully cool water into my palm. A bit of something tan floated in it, so I picked it out with the fingers of my other hand. By then all the water had left my palm.
So, I half-closed my eyes so they wouldn’t see anything in the water and brought another scoop to my mouth. My imagination told me things were floating in it—maybe swimming. My instinct was to chew. I forced myself to swallow. It was good.
I repeated the process a few times and then walked with Tess up the side of the stream as she pointed out items of interest.
“See that little plant there? Notice the leaves? They’re the same as the leaves on the tall trees hanging over us. That tree was a tiny seed a few years ago. In fifty more years, it will be as big as those trees in front of us.”
Every mention she made didn’t have to provide an immediate impact. Some were simply interesting. The white rocks that glinted in the sun were quartz. Where you find quartz, you often find gold. I knew what gold was from stories and fables but didn’t see myself trying to mine it. These days there was more value in a turkey harvested for a meal. However, the relationship interested me, like the information about the sprout and full-grown tree.
After a half-hour of her filling my head with new information, I started to realize how little and confined our sterile world below had been. We had existed in a restricted environment. All of us. Our attitudes had said we were the elite if indeed, any other people existed on the planet.
There were other places. Other lands. Other continents. Was everywhere like this? Were there people still living in those places? Had the whole world reverted to the same as here? My brain worked steadily, processing all Tess said—and often asking other questions that couldn’t be answered, like the amount of life in other parts of the world. How had our enemies made out in the brief war? Did they survive and live among us? Were they making plans to come here and make war again? Hundreds of unanswerable questions.
After explaining how the ground was softer under cedar trees and that insects hated that kind of tree, so they were a good place to spend a night, Tess pulled to a sudden halt that almost had me run into her back.
She turned and faced me, then said, “One question. If you could go back down into that sanctuary today, and return to your old life, would you?”
The question was similar to something Mayfield had said right after we were ejected. Without over-thinking it too much, I said, “No.”
That seemed enough for her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Mayfield and Cap were still sitting beside the fire, talking. She said something as we approached, they turned to look at us, and both laughed.
I liked that. They had bonded and laughter is a sure sign of people liking each other.
Tess moved to sit beside Cap and patted him on his shoulder as a greeting. Mayfield shifted to be closer to me as the sun went down and the air turned cooler.
“Have a good walk?” Mayfield asked me later.
“We did,” I said, meaning I did and assumed Tess had enjoyed her time with Cap, too. It was only six hours since I’d shot a man, a man who tried to kill me and force Mayfield to reveal her secrets. The dichotomy gave me shivers.
How I could feel welcome, safe, and sit next to three others as if all was right with the world didn’t make sense. My eyes went to the ridge, and above where we’d sat and watched Cap and Tess—spied on them. Just below that spot was a dead man waiting to be consumed by insects and animals because none of us were going to bury him.
None of us seemed to care. He had been evil and deserved to die, and it seemed as if the other three of them had accepted that fact and already moved on. Not me. It would take far more than six hours.
As if to belie my own words, once I crawled inside my sleeping bag, my eyes closed, and I didn’t stir until morning.
Upon climbing out into the foggy, early morning light, Tess looked up from a frying pan over the fire and said, “Well, you sure look better today.”
That implied directly that yesterday I had looked like shit. I said, “Are we leaving today?”
“In an hour, or so. First, we eat.”
Mayfield was not in our tent, and Cap was absent, so it made sense they were together. It didn’t matter where. I warmed my fingers by splaying them near the fire. A spark leaped out with a tiny explosion and a lump of tiny red coal landed on my bare foot. I leaped and brushed it off, cursing and checking the skin for permanent damage.
Tess said casually, and without laughing at me, “I always wear shoes near the fire, but everyone is different.”
I snorted as I thought back to my teacher in Deep Hole who would have told me to in a story to illustrate the same thing. Sarge would have called me a dumbass and ordered me not to do it again. Three ways to teach a student the same thing. I liked Tess’s offhand remark best.
The food was simple. Strips of thin meat cooked in a pan, along with round, flat pieces of dough that sizzled in the grease the meat had released. Pancakes, she said. Not very appetizing in appearance. However, it was love at first bite.
Cap and Mayfield returned. There were dark stains at the edges of Mayfield’s mouth. She held up a cup filled with tiny marbles. “Blueberries. You’ve got to try them. They grow on plants and you just pick and eat what you want.”
Her enthusiasm bubbled in the chill of the morning air. I said, “Then, you should eat them and not the meat Tess is cooking. Look at it. It’s all wrinkled and brown. And that other stuff is just pasty material cooked in the same pan without even washing it. Disgusting.”
Mayfield curled her lip.
Trying to be helpful, I said, “Don’t worry, we won’t insult our hosts. I’ll force myself to eat your portion.”
Tess and Cap laughed, and again Mayfield didn’t. She snatched a strip of bacon from my plate and bit the end. Her face lit up with delight. I handed her one of the little flat circles of dough, trying to ignore the daggers her eyes sent my way. When I rea
ched for the berries in her cup, she pulled it away.
“I’ll get my own,” I said as I walked swiftly in the direction they had come from.
As I reached the trees, she called, “Make sure you don’t get any of the bluefires by mistake. They look sort of the same, but they’re poisonous.”
I paused and turned in confusion. “How do I know the difference?”
“Payback for teasing me,” she smirked.
Even I laughed. There were no such berries as bluefires. Probably. But with Mayfield, it is hard to tell because she does not tease very often. I went back to her and accepted a meager handful from her, assuming she knew the difference.
Soon, we had everything gathered up and the camp checked twice to make sure we didn’t forget anything. We were ready to go. Cap took the lead. I followed, last.
He and Tess had spoken only a little about why they had trailed the thief. Their story of losing his trail was reasonable, and that the valley drew to a narrow slot before the mountain pass was easy to believe. That they had made a smoky fire as a last resort made sense.
But it was also too obvious. It might be true. It might not. Trust was hard to come by lately, at least for me. My entire world was upset, and I hadn’t reconciled my place in it.
My mind was working hard to figure things out and to distrust everything and everyone. So far, that had been a good method to stay alive.
When we took a break beside a large stream, I said, “You built a smoky fire for him to see and come find you, right?”
Cap smirked and looked at Tess before answering in a way that indicated there was more to the story. He said evenly, “Yes.”
“Well, he saw the smoke and came to kill you,” I said. “Thinking back, that idea seems a bit stupid.”
“You’d think so.” Then he turned and said to Tess, “I told you one of them would ask.”
Even Mayfield was looking at me with respect.
Cap said, “He always killed in the night. There were stories of the same thing happening to other families in the last couple of years. Always at night.”